


come into the light

by harrysl



Series: slice of stucky [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Breaking and Entering, Drunk Bucky Barnes, M/M, Marvel Universe, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Stucky - Freeform, and he happens to break into steve's apartment to look for said nutella, bucky just wanted some nutella, in the middle of the night ! gasp, mild cuddling, poor boy, resolved tension, they dont have drunk sex im sorry, which leads to some deep late night conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrysl/pseuds/harrysl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has so many questions, so much he wants to say buzzing around in his head, but he just blurts out, “You know where I live?” </p><p>Bucky scoffs.</p><p>“Oh, no, of course not. That’s why I’m totally not in your kitchen right now.”</p><p> </p><p>After the fall of HYDRA, Steve searches everywhere for a sign of Bucky, but to no avail,-- until he finds him in his kitchen, eating his nutella in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come into the light

**Author's Note:**

> [Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned. All characters belong to Marvel Studios and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.]
> 
> honestly i have No Words just don't sue my ass @ marvel

_Clang!_

Steve jerks upright in his bed, hand immediately going to grab the shield propped up by his nightstand. He barely dares to breathe as he listens, and peers into the darkness. The sound had come from inside his apartment.

There was another crashing noise, a sharp sound like rattling followed by a low string of curse words. Too low to make out whose voice it was, but it came from very close by. 

Heart pounding, eyes stinging from exhaustion, Steve slowly steps down onto the freezing floor and inches towards the door, shield raised in front of him. He’s used to getting constantly woken up by now, from car engines or laughter or doors slamming closed countless times in the middle of the night. Each time he startles in his sleep. Each time his heart races and his head spins as visions of guns and screams and destruction flash through his head, all the things he’s been through more times than anyone should ever endure. 

Steve doesn’t think his PTSD will ever let him sleep soundly.

But there’s no mistaking it this time. This isn’t just a shuffle from outside in the streets. Someone is in his house.

He grabs the pocket knife he keeps on his bookshelf as he passes, just to be safe. But his eyes are still not adjusted to the dark, and as he fumbles blindly to flip it open, the blade grazes against his own hand. A sharp, agonizing pain shoots through his arm from his palm, so harsh and so sudden Steve nearly drop the knife. It takes him every fiber in his body not to curse out loud, but he fights through the pain, even when he begins to feel blood gather in his palm, and flings open the door.

The hallway is empty. The sounds are louder now, and seem to be coming from the kitchen obscured by a corner. 

He tiptoes as much as he can on the hardwood floor, cringing when the floor boards squeak under his feet as he inches towards the noise. Not that he really needed to worry, because whoever was out there didn’t seem to care about being heard. There were more crashing sounds, one after the other like the whole building was collapsing, and the curse words that follow are getting so loud Steve realizes most don’t even sound English. 

He takes a deep breath, holds his shield closely in front of him, and peeks around the corner.

It’s hard to see in the darkness, but the moonlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds make things distinguishable. In the faint glowing light Steve can just make out a figure, stumbling around by his stove, crashing into the cupboards, and as he tilts a little towards the window Steve can just make out the faintest glint as he catches his arm in the light…

He flicks on the light switch.

And feels his heart stop.

It’s Bucky, leaning heavily against the kitchen island and surrounded by a mess of cutlery scattered on the floor. In one hand he clutches a fork, in the other an open jar of nutella. The sleeves of his sweatshirt are rolled up, his metal arm glaring and reflecting the dull kitchen lights. He looks absolutely petrified at the sudden brightness. In a flash, he’s got the fork raised and pointed at Steve. His eyes are wild and wide, his whole body tense.

Steve is so dumbfounded he nearly forgets how to breathe, but his arm jerks out of instinct and he points his own knife back.

They stand still, their eyes burning into each others’, the air frozen around them. Steve watches with bated breath when Bucky’s expression suddenly falters and his face breaks into a smile.

“Steve!” he beams and relaxes. He lowers the fork and and tosses it into a half broken drawer on the ground. “Thank god I found the right house or else this would be real awkward right now.” He bends down to grab a handful of spoons off the ground, dumping them into the drawer as well.

Now Steve’s heart is beating way too fast. _And_ he’s suddenly stupidly aware of how shirtless he is, damn it. He hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes before getting up, and he regrets it now. 

“It’s still real awkward, Bucky,” he retorts, though it comes out wobbly through the massive lump in his throat. “I don’t hear a word about you for months, and suddenly you decide to break into my house? What’s this all about?” Nevertheless, he lowers the knife.

On the inside he’s relieved; he’s _so so relieved_ to see Bucky alive and well after so long, he feels like crying. _God, I thought I’d never see you again,_ he wanted to scream. _I thought you’d left me all alone._ He wants to run up to him, to hold his so tight he won’t ever be able to slip away again, but he doesn’t. He never knows what side of Bucky he’s talking to anymore, or if he’s even talking to _Bucky_ at all. And so, although it takes him every fiber in his body, he keeps his distance. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be tense at all. If anything, he’s being a little _too_ casual for someone who has just broken into the house of the person they tried to murder a few months ago. But he looks carefree and maybe even _happy_. Steve hasn’t seen him this way in a long time.

“I know, I know, m’sorry for waking you up and stuff,” Bucky replies with a sigh, plopping down on the floor and grabbing a spoon from the drawer. He starts eating out of the jar of nutella. “But I’m really drunk right now and I wanted nutella so I came here. Hope you don’t mind.”

Steve has so many questions, so much he wants to say buzzing around in his head, but he just blurts out, “You know where I live?” 

Bucky scoffs.

“Oh, no, of course not. That’s why I’m totally not in your kitchen right now.”

Steve sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly, feels them burn with exhaustion. He flips the knife closed and slips it into the pocket of his sweatpants. He’s quite sure he won’t need it, considering the fact that if Bucky had wanted to murder him, he would have done it by now. Besides, he’s so drunk he can barely stand up straight, let alone fight.

“No, Bucky, I don’t think you understand this,” Steve says. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? How many nights I’ve spent wide awake and in pain because I thought I had lost you for good?”

Bucky just looks at him blankly, and shoves another spoonful into his mouthful. 

“I’ve been searching for you every single day since the fall of Hydra. I’ve been looking at every news report and scanning every face in every crowd in hopes of finally finding you.”

Bucky makes a weird face at that.

“Woah. Stalkerish, man,” he slurs. “Not cool.” 

“I thought you were dead!” Steve retaliates. “And here you are, knowing full well where I was this whole time, and yet you never thought to-” He cuts himself off with a sigh and closes his eyes. God, he’s so _tired_. His head feels hazy and it’s hard to think. He doesn’t know whether he wants to scream or to cry. “What took you so _long?_ ”

There was a silence that stretched on. And when it was finally broken, it wasn't by the reply Steve was expecting.

“I figured you’d hate me,” Bucky mutters, not quite meeting Steve’s eye. “You know, after all that happened. I didn’t know you still cared.” He doesn’t have to say what happened, they both know. Steve still gets nightmares about it, screaming himself awake until his throat feels raw that _It’s me, Bucky, it’s Steve, why don’t you remember?_

“Of course I care. How could I ever hate you?” he says softly. “If anything, you should be the one hating me. I could have saved you from all this mess. It was my fault.”

He barely finishes his sentence when Bucky makes a disagreeing noise at the back of his throat and _tsks_.

“Shut up, Stevie,” he slurs and points the chocolate covered spoon at him threateningly. “If you had jumped down from that train after me, that would have been dumb as _shit_. And then one of us might die and the other would have to keep going and it would be-” He makes a wild gesture with his hand that make Steve raise his eyebrows. He doesn’t finish his sentence, just lets his arm fall after a while and, looking blank, he plunges the spoon into the jar again.

“It would be…?” Steve prompts after a silence. Bucky ignores him. 

“The point is, you couldn’t have saved me then, _and_ you probably would have died,” Bucky says matter-of-factly. “Anyway, we’re both alive and, uh, well, I think. So why does it matter?”

Steve smiles. And for the first time in months, he doesn’t have to fake it.

“I forgot how philosophic you get when you’re drunk.”

“It’s called making sense.”

“How’d that drawer fall out in the first place, by the way?” Steve asks. The thing looks like it's been torn out, and bits and fragments of wood are scattered all over the floor.

“I, uh, was trying to get myself a spoon,” Bucky says, though it sounds more like a question. “It’s my arm. ‘M still not used to how strong it really is when I’m tryna be normal and, like, live a normal life.” He sighs and puts the nutella down to gather up the last of the cutlery. When he’s done, he manages to stand up, drawer in hand, though he has to grip onto Steve to steady himself. “But hey! It’s all good, I cleaned everything up.” He glances around at the floor and wrinkles his nose a little. “I think, sort of. It’s as good as new.”

Steve watches as he proceeds to try and fit the drawer back into the gaping hole where it used to be. Whatever he drank, it must be strong to be able to get him into this state despite his serum-enhanced system. He keeps teetering on his feet, hopelessly attempting to shove the drawer back and failing miserably. Steve doesn’t do anything; can’t bring himself to, can’t look away from Bucky’s face. He thinks he might be happier than he’s been in a long time, even if he feels oddly somber at the same time.

Bucky does looks healthier than the last time he saw him, that’s for sure. His overall demeanor seems less tense, less strained, though it might just be the alcohol. His hair that used to seem so limp and straight was now wavy, and it framed his face in the most beautiful way possible. Even his skin seemed to glow a little in the flickery ceiling light.

“Here, I can take that,” Steve offers after several agonizing moment. He leans down and props his shield up against the wall before taking the drawer from him and placing it on the island instead. “We can fix it later, I’ll just clean up the wood around here first so that-”

“Steve, oh my god, OH MY GOD,” Bucky screeches suddenly. “YOUR HAND, WHAT HAPPENED TO IT OH GOD STEVE-”

“This? Oh, it’s fine, it’s just-” Steve begins, but already Bucky is pouncing on him to examine the cut, nearly knocking him over in his haste.

“What sort of stupid thing have you do this time?” he whines. “Go get some rubbing alcohol or somethin’, you can’t just walk around with your hand all bloody like that.” Steve just laughs and pull away.

“You just broke into my house, Bucky. Talk about being stupid.” But he turns around to head to the bathroom nonetheless.

“I’m brilliant, because I just broke into your house,” he hears Bucky call from behind him. “That shit takes some skill.”

“How’d you do it, then?”

“I was trained as an assassin for seventy years, honey. If I want to get into your house, I find a way.”

“Could’ve just used the front door like a normal person, but suit yourself.”

Steve takes his time washing his hand, though the soap and water make the cut sting. He takes the time to think, too. About himself, about Bucky, about the fact that he’s eventually going to have to leave, and how much Steve dreads it. Bucky can shatter every single drawer in his house, so long as he stays this time. Steve’s tired of running after him.

He dries his hands off and wraps his injured hand with a bandage before returning to the kitchen with a broom and a dustpan. However, he’s caught by surprise to find most of the wood scraps already cleaned up. Bucky’s just putting the nutella back in the fridge when he walks in.

“Let’s clean up the rest tomorrow,” he whines as he staggers to Steve and stubbornly takes the broom and dustpan from him, just to dump them both on the ground. “‘M getting sleepy. I wanna sleep.” His eyelids droop and he lays on Steve's shoulder, completely melting into him as he mumbles “sleepysleepysleepy” slurred all into one word, over and over again.

Steve looks down at the broom, then at Bucky, and his own fatigue catches up with him then. He tries to object, albeit weakly, but it just gets cut off by a big yawn. So instead, he gives up on and just wraps his arm around Bucky to guide him as they shuffle their way to the bedroom.

“Tell you what,” Steve says. “You can have my bed. I’ve got clean clothes you can wear, and-”

“Where’re you gonna sleep, then?” 

“I’ll take the couch, Buck. Don’t worry about it.” When he turns to glance at Bucky, he’s got a frown on his face and a pout on his lips.

“Noooooo. Don’t need clothes and don’t need a bed. Just stay with me.”

“But-”

“Steeevieeee,” he begins to whine. He stretches the last ‘e’ for ages, just keeps going and going and going and going until-

“Alright, alright. I’m staying with you. Happy?” Steve coddles. Bucky shuts up immediately, and nods as much as he can with his chin still on Steve’s shoulder.

“Can we just sleep right here?” he mumbles and nods towards the couch. Steve almost refuses. It’s a small couch after all, and they’re both sure to wake up with sore shoulders and stiff necks in the morning. But his own exhaustions gets the best of him, blurring the thoughts in his head, so instead he just nudges Bucky to lay down before squeezing in beside him. It’s a tight fit, but neither of them really care at this point.

When Bucky moves to lay his head on Steve’s chest with a content sigh, Steve doesn’t think he could keep the smile off his face if wanted to. His eyelids are already starting to droop, so although the kitchen lights are bright, he can’t be bothered to get up and turn them off. He just turn his body to shield Bucky’s eyes, and tucks his face into the crook of his neck to shield his own. 

Just as he’s slipping into slumber, when the world starts to get fuzzy at the edges, a question swims into his head. One he’s been asking himself everyday for the past few months and never found an answer to.

“Why did you pull me out of that river?”

Bucky just hums tiredly at first. Steve half expects him not to answer, but then he just mutters “I don’t know.” It’s the last thing Steve hears before he falls asleep.

He doesn’t have nightmares this time.

**Author's Note:**

> okay um im trash i tried so hard but!!! thanks for reading & don't forget to kudos if you liked it and leave some comments on what you thought of it!! comments always brighten my day even if it's just something small :'


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